As both a concept and a space the commons has a history. In a narrow sense, land can be held ‘in common’—not being the property of any individual. And in that sense, the history of the commons can be told as a story of diminution, contraction, loss. Even within that narrow sense there are counter-narratives: Central Park; Lincoln Park; Griffith Park; town squares; city parks in their endless variety; the National Monuments, Parks, Wildernesses, Forests, and Grasslands. Not all public spaces are held in trust for the people and future generations. Designated public spaces do not exhaust the commons—city sidewalks, streets, highways, farm roads, rivers, and more are held for use ‘in common’. Even what we think of as ‘private property’ has a public face: everyone’s house has a public access even if that is a helicopter landing pad. Even a lake-side, river-side, or ocean-side property without a public access to the water is still exposed to the public gaze. Then there is the air—space itself—that cannot be used except in common. The stories of how those spaces have been recognized, created, assaulted—how that space has evolved—is the history of the commons.